Rainbows.

When The Bastard and I moved into his house, well the house he found for us, he bought me that crystal, sun catcher, whatever you wish to call it. And he hung it in the kitchen window. He told me that his mother had one when she was alive that was similar, and he loved to watch the rainbows in the morning' light. And he felt that something from his childhood was brought back out when he bought me that at a fair. He found it at a fair, not very expensive, just a trinket actually, so I thought.

It did not hold much meaning for me at first, just another pretty in the house. Even tho he told me his own story, I have always been surrounded by pretty trinkets. Some I hold dear, and some are there for the appeasing glance. But this one was held by him, and he loved to go in the kitchen in the mornings, and see the pretty rainbows that crystal beamed all over the kitchen's walls, floor, and into the dining room. And he would always shout, "Look there my girl, rainbows! They remind me of you!" I would kind of roll my eyes in an embarrassed moment, thinking to myself, "Ohh yea right, I am really someones rainbow, full of joy and light!"

To those of you who do not know me, I am anything but that in the morning. I would stagger and stumble, cussing and swearing, squinting my eyes to reach that ice cold Coke in the fridge, to stumble back over to my computer, and start the daily tasks. Trying to wake up, stuck in that in between place of shut up and let me go back to bed, and I have to get my ass to work. But there he would be every morning chipper, and I would really have liked to rip that crystal off the window and throw it at him most mornings.

And it never failed, he would make that same damn comment every SINGLE morning, of course providing there was light outside. But I figured what the hell it made him happy, so be it. The last Christmas we spent together, I ordered him another one from Ebay, only I am a girl ya know, a woman without a measuring tape, so I did not pay attention to details, I only looked at the picture, and when it showed up, it was this tiny little thing. I thought to myself how in the world could I give him that as a gift. So in my sweet little smart ass way, I wrapped it up and put a note inside the box that read, "You have your rainbows and your sunshine, all I have here is this little one that probably won't shine at all, but at least it is genuine."

He laughed when he opened that box, he hung it up, and it never did throw off any rays of light. It just kind of hung there, tiny and small, not even really pretty unless you had a magnifying glass. But it was genuine.

About a week after he passed away, my sister and I were driving and in the sky there was a beautiful rainbow, and I cried. She cried, we even pulled over and took pictures of it with the camera and when we stepped out of the car, we saw it was not a single rainbow, but a double rainbow. We both knew it was him telling us it would be alright.

And a month later in the process of moving, from the house him and I shared, back to my old house, I broke the tiny one, it broke in the carton, but his larger one did not. So I found a window where it would catch the light, and shine his rainbows all over the living room in his memory. Every morning walking through there since I have been here, no rainbows. None. Not a single one. And then one morning a few days ago, I was walking through that living room, and lo and behold, I looked around and there were dozens of rainbows all over my living room!

I started to cry, only not so much tears of sadness, but tears that I knew it was his way of telling me everything is going to be alright.

Life goes on.................

Pandora's Box of Vexations.

I have discovered with a loved one's death came a Pandora's box of vexations. And every day I try hard not to lift that lid and every day I lift that lid. Releasing all the demons out, releasing all the annoying, irritating, vexations into the realm of my reality. And now I believe I have fallen into that box in the proverbial way, and am struggling to get out in the realistic way.

The deep dark richness of grief has turned into a funk, into a black funk. And reality has been a slap in the face. A hard one. You go from two incomes to barely one, and struggle to find enough to go around. You go from having your partner in bed every night, his pillows, his side, his nightstand, the safe warm holding of his arms and you are left with the whole bed. One nightstand, and half the pillows gone. You go for two to one, when it wasn't that long ago you went from one to two. And yet that was easier to deal with.

You go out into the world and people ask how you are doing, and you find yourself going out into the world less and less. Why bother stepping out to a place that opens that Pandora's box of vexations even more. So I sit here in my huddled world, and try hard not to open that box, but yet it keeps opening every day. It releases guilt, frustration, worry, anger, sadness, and a plethora of demons that cling on and refuse to let go. I know that people keep saying you have to get up and do, not just say, or think, but do. And every day I try to struggle in those binds that cling to me tight, trying to shake them off, and letting go. And every day I remain closed tight in them.

I am releasing some a wee bit, but with each one I release, another comes to replace. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a party of pity, but more of a studying of that box. There is also laughter, memories, and life that comes from another box. But this Pandora's box of vexations, that one has become a little too much. I wonder if there is a way it can be tossed in the trash, or if one day it will just close on its own. I think that box is also where the panic comes from, the blackness that engulfs me in the middle of the night, fear, fright, sometimes flight. And this surging in the pit of my stomach when it hits, hurry and close that box. Put it back inside.

My rational brain knows that it is time, time to get up and get moving. Time to put order back into my life, time to try and bring structure to my life. Back to my life, and then I wonder why does my other side just not listen. And I find myself back opening that lid.

I wonder if I can get a full refund on that Pandora's box.

Who knows, but.....

Life goes on.............

Ethic of Reciprocity.

"The golden rule is to test everything in the light of reason and experience, no matter from where it comes." ~Gandhi~

I know there are some out there that would scoff at my reasoning behind my interpretation of the Ethic of Reciprocity. And in this I have learned a lesson. Maybe some would say that it is not a lesson but a revelation, but for me it is a lesson well learned.

Every Sunday my mother would make us go to Sunday School and I think that was probably the first time I heard about The Golden Rule. And through life I have often referred back to that lesson, with my own reasoning thrown into the mixture. Can I say I followed it to the letter, of course not. But I used it in the base line it provided me. Did I want someone to damage my car because I had damaged theirs. Did I want someone to steal my money, because I had stolen theirs. So in that, I did apply that rule. I would not do to others as I did not want it done back to me.

Years go by and I have added in a little bit more reasoning, and a lot more experience, and I learned that they call The Golden Rule, Ethic of Reciprocity. And learning more there are laws of reciprocity, and in which I learned through, the law of love. If we give our love, we expect it back. If we give our heart, we expect it back. If we give our trust, we expect it back. If we give our promise, we expect it back. Imagine in your brain standing there at a wedding, and the couple exchanging vows. Are they not expecting the very same in return. That is why most ceremonies have one state out loud that law of love and then the other repeats the exact same.

By now you are probably going, damn she rambles on and on and on! Actually I learned this lesson from a very good friend of mine, and I wanted to share a very valuable lesson learned. I have been listening to him in a normal conversation, talking about different things, and his words about reciprocity kept running through my mind. He was speaking on a business level, and at first I was right there along with him, listening, and then without realizing my mind started to wander, and would always go back to Ethic of Reciprocity, The Golden Rule.

And now he is gonna charge me, $24.95. What I learned tho is priceless, so I think he is undercharging!

No matter how hard I tried to get that out of my head, it refused to leave. Because I was applying that to my everyday life, and that law of love. I learned through the experience of different kinds of love, and the light of my reason and also at times, the darkness of my reason. I learned that when a person promises you a certain kind of love, in those emotions, in those boundaries, in those types of love, you expect it to be given to you in that exact way. And when it lacks, you feel cheated, and how could you ever return it in the same way. You can't. Because they have invoked nothing in return. We might think we still love them the very same way, but the process has altered its state. It is now going against the grains, instead of flowing with them.

When a person tells you that he will love you forever, and dies did he fail you in that love. No, for he loved you until his dying day. So in that it is not a choice. I am talking about choice here, law, reason, whatever you want to call it. So when you have someone who promises to love you in the way that you both agreed upon, and he fails you, because he is not returning your own needs, what light is in that, what reason is in that. And when you go to him and tell him that the relationship is over, most cannot or will not accept that. Simply because they do not see it as not keeping that law of love.

You can spend hours, days, weeks, months or even years trying to get that person to see that since he did not keep his word in the law of love, yours merely followed along. And it might still be there, that love, but nothing as it was. For now the reason and experience is put into place. You will not be put out there again to be hurt over and over, and over. Even tho as humans we do. But if we choose to allow ourselves to be hurt, them it is no fault but our own. And with each hurt we put another brick in our walls.

And then he comes back with the tools of manipulation, because he wants what he wants, right now!

DISCLAIMER-I am speaking in generals here.

But you also have your own tools, reason and experience. That trust has been broken and with each time it happens, you gain more experience. Merely because you experience more pain. And no one wants to feel that heavy weight of emotional pain. So in this my lesson, I have learned that I am still following the Golden Rule. I am giving back exactly what was given me. If I were to stay in that type of relationship, the tit-for-tat process can produce success in a way of allowing myself to give him the exact same type of love he is giving. But nowhere in that does it invoke the power of reciprocity, and so it fails to yield extraordinary success.

And the funny part of it, I did that with my business too. In my business dealings I treated them as spot market exchanges, value given for value received, period. Nothing more, nothing less. And in that it never produced that extraordinary success. Of course enough to pay the bills, but nothing that made me rich. I wish!

Anyway sorry I got side-tracked, that is the way my mind works. So lesson learned well.

Thanks "A" for the well taught lesson. And your check is in the mail!

Life goes on.....................

Tears.

"Tears are the silent language of grief." ~Voltaire~

How true those words have become. They have their own of just coming out at times and at times you do not wish to share them with a soul. You want to keep them protected and safe inside of you. For they are yours and yours alone. That is how I feel lately. I have cried more tears in these past few months than I have for years. I know it is part of the process of grief, and people say that they will help and if you don't allow them their freedom, it is not a good part of grief. Well I don't want them anymore.

I think I have reached that depressed part of grief, that part where you sit there all day wondering and reflecting on the past, what could have been done different and you find yourself in this dark despair. You want to hurl obscenities into the Universe, but yet you want to curl up in those tears and have them soothe and comfort you. But they really don't, they just leave you at times breathless and at others it is a sign of depression.

I don't think there is a way to 'do grief'. I think it just happens and you have to ride it out. And in that a part of it will always be with you, no matter what you do to try to overcome, letting time ease the hurt, the pain, the loneliness. Sad that a life ended, a father passed away, a lover, a friend, a brother, and a son, all rolled up into one. A life ended.

And you find yourself mad, angry, shocked, and all those tangled emotions, and you are left with one, grief. But when do you reach the point that life goes on, when do you reach that point that it really does and you have to get off your ass and do something about it, instead of wallowing in it.

That is where the signature line comes from when I end each post.....the same one I have used for years.....

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life-It goes on." Robert Frost.

And I think he said it all......

Life goes on.......

The Comfort of a Quilt.

I was trying to find a quote that would fit what I wanted to say, a quote about a quilt and its covering or its wonderful blend of colors, of different pieces stitched together, and found not one that would say what I wanted to say.

The Bastard and I went to an auction one night, and I saw this lovely quilt, (Not the only in the picture, but you get the idea.) and I wanted it. But I did not have a chance to look it over to see if it was in perfect condition. I merely saw it as the man held it up. It was vibrant colors, purple, orange, red, green, brown, just these lovely colors woven together, and a soft velvet material. I wanted it! I was prepared with number in hand, but I had a limit of what I could spend. The rush was exciting but a little nerve wracking at the same time, what if I was outbid. When they told me I won it at $11. I was shocked! I felt so lucky and leaned over to give The Bastard a kiss. Like a little girl I went up to fetch my new quilt.

I brought it back and had it sitting on my lap during the rest of the auction, my fingers brushing along the soft fabric. Later that evening when arriving home, we laid out the quilt and saw that its underneath had a few little tears in the material. Nothing major just some wear and tear. It was a vintage piece after all and I did not expect perfection but I thought that it would be on the guest bed, for perhaps it was not 'good' enough for our bed. The Bastard laughed at me and said of course it was good enough for our bed, it would provide warmth in the cold winter months and it looked pretty on our bed. So he settled that and took it to the dry cleaners the next day.

When he brought it home a few days later, he put it on our bed. And it was beautiful and rich colors. And we snuggled under that warm quilt all winter. Bundled up, close, telling each other stories, watching TV, and well you know........but that quilt kept it all inside of its beauty.

And that was the last thing The Bastard touched before he died. He slept under that the night before and I found myself laying there night after night, cuddled in his memories, snuggled in my grief. My sister came to stay with me for those first two weeks, and we snuggled underneath that quilt together sharing our stories of him, our laughter of him and our grief. But over us was that quilt that he had bought for me all those months ago. A little more wear and tear, a little more worn, but more memories also gathered in the threads.

When I moved back to my old house, I put that quit right back on the bed. And I have found a shelter there when I snuggle up underneath each night. I find myself reaching out for him, but even tho he is no longer there, my fingers run across the velvet and I feel the softness, the warmth. A smile appears and I know that my memories will always be right there.

And then when I get up from beneath, and go out to face the world, I know that it shall always be waiting because.......

Life goes on...........

Destiny.

"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice, it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." William Jennings Byran

My sister and I were having a conversation today about destiny and this quote came up on one of her friend's page on Facebook. We had a nice little debate about destiny. Do we actually choose our own destiny, or it is chance?

We both agreed that destiny is chance. But then we went our separate ways. She thinks it is all chance, and I think it is both, choice and chance. I think that we choose our lovers/mates/spouses. I think we choose our friends. But we do not choose our families.

And she brought up a very interesting point. We cannot control others, and in that destiny is chance. Yes so true, we cannot control others, we cannot control the Universe, we cannot control God. But we can control ourselves and in that can we control parts of our destiny?

Would our paths be the same if we would have choosen some of our paths differently, no of course they would not. If I would not have choosen The Bastard, I would not be grieving now. I would not have known him, and who knows where I would have been now. But did destiny lead me to him or did I choose him of my own accord.

Kind of like one of those questions that will always remain unanswered. There are parts of my life that I believe I was led there for a purpose, and some I believe I led myself to, so perhaps my sister is right, we are led everywhere we are supposed to be when we are supposed to be there.

Interesting topic that one. I suppose I will have to give it more thought.

In the meantime........

Life goes on..............

The Bastard. May you rest in peace Darling.

May you always rest in peace, Darling.

He passed away on May 16th, 2010.

For many of you who knew me in a previous life, I was with the man I called, "The Bastard". Well that is what I called him. So let me refresh your memory and mine too. I think that I need some good memories and looking at him was always such fun. When he wore his leather pants, yummy! I used to have a blog of our life together, well my life before I met him and then the past two years of our life together. I am sure some of you will remember, and those who are new to this, welcome.

I miss him so much. He was such a part of my life, helping me through difficult times, helping me tear down walls that I had up, and no way do I want to deify him, I just want to remember him as it was. It wasn't always wonderful and if I said that I would be lying, but we did have some wonderful times. Although with the tough time, we had glorious times. And I will always remember him in those leather pants.

It is hard to let go when there is no closure, it is hard to say goodbye when it happens so suddenly there is no warning. He was 48 years old and he died very quick of a heart attack. I suppose I should be happy that he did not suffer, and I am thankful for that. But I am not thankful he had to go at all. He was buried with full military honors. He served the Air Force for over 21 years. And it was beautiful as funerals go. I was never so touched in my life in that way. When handed the flag tears rolled down my face, but with an honor of being his wife and being allowed to have those moments of his glory. Of his serving our Country.

I know that time will ease some of the grief and I am thankful for friends, and family that have helped me through this dark time. I am thankful that I have wonderful children that love me unconditionally and are there, that we are there for one another. I am thankful for the life that I was allowed to share with him.

And if there was one thing I could tell him, it would be......it would have been, 'I love you back."

He would always say, "I love you to the moon and back my girl." And I would always reply with, "I love you back." That is what I put in his casket, a white pillow shaped like a heart with one single rose and that saying. It was buried with him, and I was presented with his flag that draped his casket. He took the love with him, and I kept his with me.

I am healing. I am moving on with life. Not in the normal sense, but in the sense that I know he would want me to be happy. He would want me to see him as he was for me, and to me. He would want me to laugh, and he would tell me to get up and get going for......

Life goes on...........

Can a broken heart be mended?

Can a broken heart really be mended? I sit here and wonder if that is possible. It has almost been three months since he has passed away and I feel like my heart is mending, although just a little but can it truly be. It feels as if there are band-aids put in places but that the fluids of happiness seep out as if they will never return. I miss him. I still hate sleeping alone in this great big bed, I still miss his smell, I still miss all the silly things we shared, and I still am not ready to face the world without him. I have heard every cliche I think ever invented, and I have heard just about everyday the question, "How are you?" til I feel as if I am going to tear out all my hair and scream!

I fill my hours with mindless chores, painting the walls, unpacking, sorting, organizing, and all those meaningless chores only to do them over and over, and over. Watch mindless TV, meaningless conversations with myself, only to still sleep alone at night. Am I ever going to get used to being a widow, will the pain ever go away. Will it at least cease to some degree and give me back some sense of normal. Not that I was normal before, that is just something that never really happened to me. Normal that is. But I want my old life back. I want him back. I want to jump up and down and have my own way.

I have been back and forth to this blog thinking I should write down some of my feelings, but then again when I come here, all I can think about it what to write. Should I appease the readers, or should I appease me. I think I will just worry about me for now and write the mad ramblings. If they don't make sense, who am I to care. I know what they mean and I want my heart to stop hurting. I want my life to come to some sense of realism. Some sense of not being so damned sad all the time. I was asked by a friend how my summer was going, and I wanted to reply, "Horrid, how do you think." But I smiled and said nothing. Which is better in the end, I should have probably told him how it was really going. But would he have truly cared. Who knows.

I am having a pity party and I know it. I just can't stop it. Nor do I really want to, yet. I am not ready. I miss him and here I am with...........

Life goes on...................